


Desperate Times

by Calico, Habernero



Series: Inopportune Moments [4]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Barebacking, First Time, M/M, Payoff, Porn, UST, possessive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:38:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4258479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calico/pseuds/Calico, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Habernero/pseuds/Habernero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The most inopportune moment, and the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate Times

**Author's Note:**

> AKA The payoff story. \o/ For which reason we highly advise reading [the rest of the series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/266719) first. 
> 
> Thanks to julad, wreathed, concernedlily and O4amuse.
> 
> Incidentally: [**Mark Hapsburg**](http://ukcalico.tumblr.com/post/123073575208/mark-hapsburg-from-desperate-times-by-calico).

So it had been a massively weird on-again, off-again hot-and-cold dance with Harry since day one, and Eggsy didn’t pretend to know what the fuck was up with that. Just that his cock knew one thing (Harry wanted him, oh hell yes did he ever) and his head knew another (Harry had put a stop to it every, single time), and if it _had_ all been some big insane motivational lure to spydom on Harry’s part (total weirdo that he was) then at least Eggsy’d had some spectacular wanks off it. And got a great job. 

Life was too short to sweat the small stuff, like if his mentor-come-colleague was the best person he had ever fucking met, not to mention fit as fuck. If Harry didn’t want a piece of him, that was Harry’s loss, whatevs. Eggsy was okay. Sure, he’d felt pretty shit for a while there—he’d fucking _asked Harry out_ , for God’s sake, like some sort of lovesick teenager—and not gonna lie, Harry’s shutting him down like that had left a pretty slow-to-fade bruise. There were still moments when Eggsy would catch himself staring at Harry’s profile and thinking, _Why not, though?_ before jerking his gaze away, hoping no one else had noticed, which when you work with spies is a pretty fucking vain hope; but those moments didn’t sting as badly now.

So no, honestly, he was okay. He didn’t need a boyfriend, thanks; if Harry wasn’t up for it, Eggsy had decided he was quite happy being young, free and single. And rich. And busy, God, so fucking busy all the time. He managed to get laid here and there - not with anyone he particularly _liked_ but a warm bed was a warm bed at the end of the day - and anyway, work pretty much destroyed all chances of a normal social life. Even if there had been anyone special (anyone _else_ , his brain put in), the odds of being able to see them two days in a row were pretty damn slim.

Eggsy wasn’t sure when the rest of the Kingsmen found time to date, but maybe the schedule was extra crazy post V-day. Or maybe they just paired off. Gareth and Roxy were blatantly circling each other; no moves made yet, officially, though Gareth was smooth as fuck and Roxy was a dark horse, so they could have been getting up to all sorts for all Eggsy knew. A couple of the new recruits were pretty cute, but none of them held a candle to Harry—and that, basically, was the crux of it. If he couldn’t have Harry, he wasn’t going to settle for anyone else, and Harry had made it pretty clear that he was out of bounds.

Fair enough, he told himself, most days. Essentially, he was fine. That pining shit was not Eggsy’s style. Time to jog on.

***

There had been some undercover stuff in Beirut (hot; lots of Gareth telling him to chill out), and then a diplomatic excursion to Glasgow (cold; lots of Gareth telling him to man up), and now he was in London, again, and it was raining, and he’d lost his fucking beautiful bulletproof stun-gun umbrella on the Tube.

Eggsy walked, and then walked faster, and then gave up and ran, through the pelting rain, getting soaked him to the skin. His shoes were slipping on the wet pavement, and he nearly skidded over several times; he was squinting and laughing by the time he reached the tailor’s shop, breathing hard. 

He burst into the shop, and almost collided with—“Harry!” he said, trying to catch his breath, and Harry raised his eyebrows, taking in the whole drenched state of him with a faint smile. 

“Oh dear,” he said. 

Eggsy wiped the water from his eyes, pushed his hair back. “My umbrella’s somewhere on the Circle line,” he said, by way of explanation. 

“Most inconvenient.” 

Eggsy nodded, half-expecting a lecture - he seemed to be getting a lot of lectures, recently - but Harry was just—looking. For a moment, it felt like the old days, when Harry would look at him _a lot_ and Eggsy would drink it in and try to navigate his way a little closer. “I’m pretty wet,” he said, testing. 

“Yes,” Harry said, and cleared his throat. His smile became an expression of mild enquiry. “Were you on your way somewhere?”

“Clerkenwell,” Eggsy said, taking the opportunity to study him: the scars were faint, now, and his eyes looked like they’d always looked, which to Eggsy was pretty damn fine. His suit was dark brown, today: not many people could get away with a brown suit without looking like a seventies reject, but Harry Hart was one of the chosen few. “But I need to get changed now - thought I might borrow a new umbrella, too, til I’ve tracked the old one down.”

“Right,” Harry said. “Yes, of course. I think fitting room one is free.”

Eggsy unbuttoned his sodden jacket, and didn’t miss the way Harry’s eyes flicked downwards at the movement. Under the jacket, his shirt was translucent, clinging. “Bulletproof but not weatherproof, apparently,” he said, as wry as he could, sliding off the jacket with a grimace.

“Unfortunately,” Harry said, and now his gaze was fixed on Eggsy’s face, a picture of polite composure. “I think it’s something to do with the… fibres.”

“Teach us not to forget our umbrellas,” Eggsy said, and now he was fighting the urge to punch a wall with how pointless this conversation was, how fucking banal. 

Harry’s mouth twitched. “Most of us don’t.”

“Touché,” Eggsy said, mangling the accent on purpose, and for a moment Harry’s eyes gleamed with that warm amusement that Eggsy basically used to live for. 

He moved his hands to the top button of his shirt, and a wall slammed down in Harry’s face so fast it was like a security feature. 

“Right, well - it was good to run into you, Eggsy,” he said, and he was fucking looking at the fucking _wall_. “Did Merlin let you know I’ll be running point for you tomorrow, the Hapsburg case? Gareth has to attend to some rather urgent business in the Cotswolds.”

“What the fuck could be urgent in the Cotswolds?” Eggsy joked, to cover for the fact that this news hit him like a line of coke: everything going turbocharged, electric, translucent round the edges. Harry was going to be _in his ear_. Harry, who currently couldn’t even look at him, was going to be providing a running commentary in that calm, impossibly arousing voice. Fuck yes, and also, _shit_. He was gonna be lucky to remember his own alias. 

“I’m not at liberty to disclose,” Harry was saying. “But since we have this opportunity, I think we should try something different. Barring emergencies, you run the show. See how you cope on your own - a bit more independence than usual. You can call me, of course, if necessary.”

So either Harry didn’t want to talk to him, or Harry didn’t trust himself to talk to him. Brilliant: the perfect opportunity to work closely again, and Harry couldn’t seem further away. “Great,” Eggsy said. Fake it ’til you make it. “Yeah, okay, sounds good.”

“Good,” Harry said, and gave him a brisk nod. “I’d better be going. Good luck finding your umbrella.”

“Thanks,” Eggsy said, and if he watched him leave, all long-legged stride and perfect posture, well, fucking sue him, okay? Just fucking sue him.

***

“What the fuck—?”

The flash drive hadn’t even halfway finished getting the goods. Eggsy spun around and saw a figure backlit in the doorway - a man, about Harry’s height but slender and ten years younger, wearing an off-the-rack suit, designer stubble, and an expression of guarded fury. Their mark, arriving at his Canary Wharf office, Costa coffee in hand. Shit: Eggsy had meant to be long gone by six AM, but the stupid fucking glass lift had made practically a thousand more stops than planned. 

Well his options were pretty fucking clear, weren’t they? Fight him or fake him out. At least Eggsy looked the part, suited and booted. 

Eggsy let his mouth fall open in surprise, eyes widening behind his glasses. “Excuse me?” he said, in his poshest accent, ensuring to block the man’s line of sight to the computer. “Is there any need for that kind of language?”

“Yes, when you’re in my fucking office,” the man said, coming closer. The door swung noiselessly shut behind him, blocking out the empty corridor.

“Your office?” Eggsy exclaimed. “This is my office!” 

That got a pause off him. “What?”

“…Isn’t it?” Eggsy added, letting doubt colour his tone, and looked left and right, taking in the large windows and anodyne furniture. The polar opposite of the office Harry was sitting in right now: this place was modern, slimline, anonymous. “The woman on reception told me twenty-fifth floor, thirteenth room on the right - I’m sure of it.”

“How long have you been in here?” Suspicious but not _too_ suspicious - this guy wasn’t a VIP in the network, just a handy financial IP address to feed some dodgy numbers through. 

“Not long,” Eggsy said truthfully, thinking of the flash drive, four minutes into its predicted nine minute download. If the guy saw the screen in that time… If he even noticed the computer was running… 

Time to change tactic. “I’m Rupert Stone, on secondment from Deloitte,” Eggsy said, and extended his hand. Killer-watt smile: engaged. “First day. Sorry, didn’t mean to get off on the wrong foot.”

That got him a hesitation followed by a handshake, which Eggsy made firmer than necessary and ensured lingered until the man’s face flickered in recognition. Handsome enough; deep blue eyes betraying guarded interest. 

“Mark Hapsburg,” the guy said.

“Pleased to meet you,” Eggsy said, releasing his hand with a deliberate final squeeze. Five minutes. At the very least, he had Hapsburg’s undivided attention. He couldn’t help but wonder if Harry would be impressed with his quick thinking, his coolness under pressure. “I don’t suppose you’d know where I’m supposed to be?”

“Er, no,” said Hapsburg, and glanced sideways for a moment, then back, his body language becoming less guarded by the second. “I don’t think we’re expecting anyone. Which department are you meant to be in?”

“Mergers and Acquisitions,” Eggsy said, and tilted his head. Balls to the wall time. “What’s—what’s your department?” 

The artful hesitation got him a second quick look, and then a longer, slower one. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” Eggsy said, and gave him the knowing smile that basically never failed to work on closeted posh boys. He took a step closer, still keeping between Hapsburg and the computer behind him, and noted the line of Hapsburg’s body change: alert with a slightly fey tension. “I suppose you don’t get a lunch break - we never do, over at Deloitte.” He pressed his lips together for a moment, let his eyes gleam. “They work us like dogs.”

“Eating is cheating,” Hapsburg said, raising his Costa to his mouth and taking a sip as if it were a martini, only the faintest flicker around his eyes suggesting how surreal that must taste. 

_That’s right - I’m seducing you before you’ve finished your morning coffee._

“Shame,” Eggsy said. Coming up on six minutes. “If you were around later…” _Come on, come on, come on._

Blue eyes flashed with obvious excitement, and Eggsy congratulated himself on his top-class gaydar. Never fucking let him down. 

Hapsburg set his cup aside, voice dropping to a low promise. “I’m around now.”

 _Get in._ “Right,” Eggsy said, nodding and smiling, letting his gaze wander the guy’s face, resting on his mouth for a couple of slow contemplative seconds. “Well… me too.”

Hapsburg grinned and took a step forwards - and then his forehead creased again. “But haven’t you got to find you own office?”

Thinking? So not okay right now. Eggsy closed the space between them and grabbed Hapsburg’s hand. “Should do,” he said, and brought Hapsburg’s fingers to his lips. “But I bet the view is much better in here.”

“I bet it is,” Hapsburg said, and Eggsy heard the catch in his voice and felt his own grin widen.

He licked Hapsburg’s fingertips, watching as his eyelashes fluttered down. Six-and-a-half minutes. And he _could_ spin this out, this fucked up flirtation, and then make a break for it… but where was the fun in that? Plus it would raise suspicion, for sure. Hell yeah. Much better to suck on his fingertips for a few long seconds and then draw Hapsburg’s hand down to the front of his trousers. 

_Very authentic_ , he imagined Harry saying, and that gave him a jolt of heat worth ten of Hapsburg’s eager smile. It also helped get his cock from half-hard to raging hard-on, which was helpful under the circumstances. He guided Hapsburg’s hand to close around his cock through his trousers, and shuffled them a little closer to the door; wouldn’t hurt to barricade it right now. 

He found the front of Hapsburg’s pinstripe trousers satisfyingly tented, stroked him through the fabric a couple of times, then wriggled his hand in under Hapsburg’s belt and down into his underwear to clasp the hot confined length of his cock.

Eggsy looked down, and the glasses slid a little down his nose, reminding him that this was going out to an open comms channel. He swallowed at that, looking up again as he pictured Merlin shielding his eyes and cursing his name, Gareth groaning, Lancelot rolling her eyes at his terrible lines—and then he pictured Harry, and felt ten times more breathless, the idea hitting him that this was a performance of sorts. The lengths he’d go to, for a mission. Showcasing his skills at diversion.

And if it happened to remind Harry that there was some unfinished business between the two of them as well, so much the better. 

“They always warn you it’ll be difficult, first day at a new corporation,” Eggsy said, in Hapsburg’s ear, as Hapsburg groaned softly under his touch. “Do you reckon you can help me fit in?”

“Wouldn’t want you to feel… unwelcome,” Hapsburg gasped, turning his face towards Eggsy’s. 

Eggsy stared at his mouth for a moment. He didn’t feel like kissing. “What do you think,” he said instead, squeezing Hapsburg’s fingers with his other hand, urging, and Hapsburg got the hint, unbuckling Eggsy’s belt and getting his cock out in record time, “is there something down there you could take, uh, fiscal responsibility for?” 

He could almost hear Harry sighing at his poor punning effort - but come on, he kind of had his hands full here. He swallowed; the thought of Harry watching was getting more intense. He pictured him in the red office, trying to keep his attention on the ticking clock and the blinking flash drive. Failing. Letting one hand slide into his lap. Fuck, yes.

“I can do better than that,” Hapsburg said, deliberately licking his lips, glancing down then up again. 

Eggsy raised his eyebrows, pleased - he would’ve been up for a little cock-sucking, if needs be, but was certainly not about to look a gift like this in the mouth. And it turned out Hapsburg was a total bottom, practically falling over himself to suck Eggsy’s dick; he was on his knees in three seconds flat, as Eggsy braced his hand on the closed door behind his head and took a few deep breaths. 

Seven minutes.

Eggsy curled one hand into Hapsburg’s hair and sighed happily, tilting his face to the ceiling. God, he loved his life. Approximately six-oh-five AM on a Thursday and here he was, getting his cock sucked by a pretty City boy on the twenty-fifth floor of one of the most iconic buildings in the London skyline. For work. _While Harry watched._

And oh, how this pretty City boy loved to suck cock.

Eggsy couldn’t help but look back down at him as he got into an easy rhythm, enjoying every push of his dick into that soft, welcoming mouth. Hapsburg’s eyelashes fluttered closed as he started moving his head, looking completely blissed out, and the thought of Harry seeing this, watching through Eggsy’s eyes, was ridiculously hot. 

It was also becoming more difficult to deny that a small, petty part of him _really_ liked the idea of showing Harry what he was missing. 

“God,” Eggsy said, as Hapsburg built up speed, “yeah,” and then bit his lip to keep from making any more noise - didn’t need to attract attention right now, did they? Definitely didn’t need his natural accent to make an appearance - and just panted, which turned to little grunts in the back of his throat when Hapsburg took him deep enough to gag. God, that was hot. That was so fucking hot. He brushed his fingers over Hapsburg’s ears, coaxing him to try again, harder, and Hapsburg moaned, deep in his chest, a yearning earnest noise. 

“You like that,” Eggsy whispered, before he could stop himself, and Hapsburg pulled slowly off and looked up at him, eyes hooded, lips wet, cheeks pink.

His wealthy Home Counties accent came soft and breathless: “You feel so good in my mouth, I want to make you come down my throat, I need—”

Eggsy felt a slow grin grow across his face. “You need to shut up,” he drawled, pushing the head of his cock against Hapsburg’s lips, smearing them. 

Hapsburg’s eyes slammed closed and he flushed a beautiful dark pink under his stubble, opening his mouth easy as anything, taking him right back inside. 

For a moment, Eggsy imagined Harry in this position, and his cock pulsed in Hapsburg’s mouth, getting harder still as Hapsburg moaned and sucked around him. Best not to think about that unless he wanted this to be over pretty damn quickly, he thought, feeling his breathing speed up again. And he wanted this to last. 

“That’s it,” he said, fingertips stroking behind Hapsburg’s ears again, tempted to hold tight and fuck into his throat, but holding back, just, _just_ , until his thoughts strayed back to Harry - thoughts of toying with him, getting him hard, watching that impenetrable composure splinter and fall apart - and he found himself starting to thrust, sliding his dick across Hapsburg’s tongue and bumping the back of his mouth. 

Hapsburg grunted, and Eggsy did it again, getting a moan this time, and again - a louder grunt - and again, again, again. 

“So fucking hot,” Eggsy whispered, as Hapsburg gripped his arse with both hands and struggled on his dick, and then he was there, sliding suddenly deeper, the wet clench of his throat all around him. 

“Ah, _fuck_ ,” Eggsy hissed, and Hapsburg made frantic noises as he buried his nose in Eggsy’s pubes, rocking on his dick, slick and tight. Now here was a guy in serious need of a work-life balance. God, he was keen. Eggsy closed his hands in his hair and roughly fucked his mouth, finesse going out the window along with all sense of time, place, purpose. He watched the length of his cock sliding in and out of Hapsburg’s mouth, and let himself picture Harry after all—except it didn’t work, not this way round, no. 

Harry wouldn’t be the one down there. It would be Eggsy, hard floor beneath his knees and Harry’s hard dick in his mouth, and god—fucking—shit—that was it—that was all he needed, one imagined glimpse of Harry standing above him with his cock pushing between Eggsy’s lips, his hands in Eggsy’s hair—he was gone. 

He emptied himself into Hapsburg’s throat, groaning soft and long as Hapsburg swallowed and swallowed. 

“Fucking _hell_ ,” Eggsy breathed, as soon as he could make words again. His fingers felt clumsy as he tucked himself back into his trousers, glancing around. Good: the flash drive’s light was a steady green. 

He looked back down at the man at his feet. Courtesy dictated—but Hapsburg was already there, on his knees, jerking off furiously into his own fist, one hand still curled into Eggsy’s waistband. 

“Good boy,” Eggsy said appreciatively, despite the fact that Hapsburg was probably ten years older than he was. He stroked Hapsburg’s over-styled hair and watched idly as he finished wanking himself off with a groan, spilling over his hand and narrowly missing Eggsy’s Oxfords. 

_Fuck_ , Eggsy thought, there would have been hell to pay. He imagined Harry’s face when confronted with conspicuously stained footwear, and couldn’t help a grin, as Hapsburg sank backwards and rested his head against the wall, eyes closed, mouth curved in a soft wet smile. 

Perfect. In a few quiet steps, Eggsy grabbed the flash drive before Hapsburg had a chance to get his act together. Then he padded back towards the door, pausing to pick up the cooling coffee cup and take a swig. “Anyway, uh… thanks for that,” he said, and passed the cup down to Hapsburg, still sprawled out on the floor. 

Hapsburg opened his eyes. “No,” he said, his voice rasping, “thank _you_.”

Legend. Eggsy grinned and sauntered out, feeling like he was walking on air. Fantastic start to the day: job done, no-one suspecting a thing, Harry probably wishing he’d been there, and Eggsy got to get off. Missions, as they say, with benefits. 

And now it was all of, what, twenty past six? Time to get on a plane.

***

The rest of the day was a blur of car chases, exploding briefcases, death-defying scramble-leaps down too-tall buildings - the usual. He tried not to think about Harry too much, but inappropriate thoughts about Harry had been the warm hum of background radiation this entire chapter of Eggsy’s life, so he didn’t give himself too much grief about it. Harry hadn’t said a word; Eggsy guessed they’d debrief tomorrow. Fair.

He got back to the tailor’s long after dark, tempted just to go home but conscious that if he didn’t drop off the one non-exploded briefcase now, Sod’s law said it would have exploded itself by morning. He wanted rid, already. He stowed the case and went upstairs to log it. 

The light in the office upstairs was off, but Harry was waiting for him. 

Eggsy froze as he realised that the shape in the shadows was the seated form of his mentor, absolutely still and silent. 

And—okay, then, might have misjudged this one. That was not the posture of a man who’d found Eggsy’s achievements that day particularly amusing. 

Eggsy cleared his throat. The best defence and all that. “Bit dramatic, innit?”

There was no response, for long enough that it crossed his mind that maybe Harry was asleep. 

Then, perfectly even, ringing through the darkness: “What the fuck did you think you were doing?”

Eggsy shoved his hands in his pockets, closing them into fists. Fuck. This was happening, then. “Er, saving the day by sacrificing myself, what did it look like?”

“It looked like mixing business and pleasure.” Harry’s words were cold, clipped; made Eggsy’s hackles rise. “At great risk to the mission at large, and not inconsiderable risk to your personal safety.”

Eggsy scoffed. “I could’ve taken him.”

“You think this is a joke?” Harry demanded, rising from his chair and crossing the room in a few large strides, and Eggsy found himself backing up against the doorframe, uncertain in the dark of how fast Harry was moving - or if he was going to stop.

A frisson of fear tingled down his spine. “Yeah, I do actually,” he shot back, raising his voice to make up for not standing his ground. “It’s a joke that after I’ve spent the day getting blown up and shot at, for _you_ , you’re waiting up here just to give me a hard time - and in the fucking dark, too, c’mon, Harry, what the _fuck_.”

In answer, Harry smacked the wall by Eggsy’s head, hard; Eggsy flinched in the microsecond before the light came on.

Harry’s normal sleek edges were roughened: eyes black, cheeks betraying the faintest tinge of colour, shoulders rising and falling.

It gave Eggsy a glimmer of confidence. “Careful, you’ll pop a vein.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, gave him a conciliatory half-smile. “Look, I’m sorry you had to see that, alright? Not my intention.”

Apparently the confidence was misplaced. Harry shook his head, eyes blazing with cold anger. “It’s nowhere near that simple. Your little foray into indecent exposure was the least of it. You were _late_ , you were _slow_ , you—“

“Hey,” Eggsy protested, “it was that bloody lift, not—”

“You failed to factor in the possibility that a large investment bank _might_ have higher-than-average person traffic in the small hours of the morning.”

Eggsy didn’t acknowledge the hit. “When I got in there I went as fast as I could.”

“Until his mouth was around your cock.”

“I—” Eggsy started, and broke off, blinking. He gave a hollow laugh. “Oh right, here we go, I knew it was about that really.”

“It’s about protocol,” Harry said, his voice dropping dangerously. “It’s about you, following orders. Get in, get out, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred pounds, _do not waste sixteen minutes being fellated by a jumped-up salesman in a ninety pound suit_.” 

“I was trying to distract him,” Eggsy said loudly, wishing he couldn’t feel the blood rushing to his face. “You’re right, I was running late and he was bang on time - what did you want me to do, kill him? Knock him out? Leave him sitting in the middle of the floor wondering why he’s forgotten everything since ten PM?”

“Yes,” Harry snapped. “That would have been preferable to making me watch you enjoying a leisurely _fuck_ —” the word was bitten off, ice cold “—whilst I ran three levels of interference elsewhere in the building to prevent your cover from being blown!”

Part of Eggsy desperately wanted to make a joke about the blowing of cover and other things, but even he recognised Harry might actually be on the verge of punching him. He tried to defuse the air between them instead. “I’m sorry, alright?” he said, trying to show in his face that he meant it. It had only been supposed to be a bit of fun - if he’d known it was gonna make Harry go _mental_ , he might have thought twice. “I’m sorry. I got lazy, and I took the easy option. I swear, it won’t happen again.”

“Which would be worth something if I could believe you.”

And _that_ just pissed him off. “Why,” Eggsy demanded, throwing out his hands, “what more do you want? I’ve said I’m sorry!”

“And I don’t believe you,” Harry said again, unmoved. “Far be it from me to police your personal life,” he said crisply, and a pang went through Eggsy’s chest: cheers, Harry, thanks for that, nothing like rubbing it in. “Whomever you decide to associate with in your downtime is your own choice - but when it start to interfere with the work it becomes my business and I have to intervene.”

Eggsy realised his teeth were gritted. “I get the fucking job done, Harry. When have I not?” 

“You get the job done, but you jeopardise yourself in the process,” Harry retorted, and that was just—no. 

Eggsy shook his head, almost laughing except he was so fucking furious. “That’s not it. I’ve completed more missions than any of the other new recruits, and I’ve never left a mission early, and I’ve _never_ given up. I’ve done _whatever_ it takes. And if sometimes I’ve enjoyed it, then fucking sue me, Harry, alright? But you don’t get to stand here giving me shit about jeapordising myself, about taking risks, because the biggest risks I’ve taken have _all_ been for you. So come on then,” he said, squaring up to him, because it was fucking time to have this fucking _out_ already, “enough pissing about - you got a problem with me, you can just come straight out and say it.”

Harry’s eyes were narrow. “Prague,” he bit off. “Venice. Now London.”

“Lovely this time of year,” Eggsy said, folding his arms, bracing for whatever was coming next. “What’s your point?”

“Three missions in three months that you almost totally fucked up because once you get an erection you can’t deliver on anything else.”

“ _Almost_ ,” Eggsy snapped. _Missions with benefits_. He knew better than to say that out loud. “But you know what? Desperate times, desperate measures.”

“A gentleman,” Harry said coolly, “should never be that desperate.”

And that was pretty fucking funny; Eggsy gestured violently to the room around them. “And what’s this then, waiting up in the middle of the night to tell me off like some fucking schoolteacher - what’s this if not desperate?”

Harry’s eyes glinted. “I warn you—“

“I hear you,” Eggsy shot back, squaring up to him and letting his own voice ride rough over the scant space between them, “but what I don’t get, right, is why now? Why tonight? Or it is actually, Harry,” he said, suspicion burgeoning into certainty, “is the problem _actually_ that it was alright when it was chicks but _you’ve_ got a problem with me fucking another guy?”

Cold anger turned to hot fury. “It was never _all right_ ,” Harry snapped, reaching for the front of Eggsy’s jacket and then recoiling as if burned, and in that instant a thought that had been lurking indistinct came into blinding focus: Harry was so fucking reactive right now. Something had worn away at his ironclad composure, and maybe it had been coming for a while or maybe it was all down to today, but suddenly Eggsy felt lighter than air. Harry was _jealous_.

Eggsy clocked him again now: looming close, dark eyes glittering, looking mad as all hell but somehow restraining his violent urges. Or some kind of urges, anyway. _A gentleman should never be that desperate._ But _should_ , as Eggsy knew all too well, meant fuck all when you were maddeningly, excruciatingly turned on. 

“This ain’t about protocol,” Eggsy said, starting to grin. Oh, yes please. At fucking last. He let his gaze drift down Harry’s body and then back to his face, and took a step closer.

Harry glared back at him. “Of course it is.”

“If it was about protocol,” Eggsy said, “you wouldn’t have copped out of running point on me. You would’ve been in my ear and on my case instead of sitting back and,” he mimed stroking his cock, “ _watching_.”

Colour flashed across Harry’s cheeks and his eyes, if possible, darkened further. 

He didn’t deny it; that was all the confirmation Eggsy needed. “Why Harry,” he drawled, “do you wanna debrief me or do you wanna _de-brief_ me?”

A moment later he couldn’t breathe: with one hand, Harry had slammed him against the wall hard enough to wind him. 

“Listen to me, you cocky little shit,” Harry said, mouth close to his ear, words precise and leaden again, as Eggsy’s head swam, “you may think you have it all figured out, but let me remind you of the facts. I made you, and I can unmake you; I trained you, and one high potency dart is all that would be necessary to take it all away again; and you’re only as good as your last mission, which I’m afraid makes _you_ a vacuous little under-performer who can’t keep it in his pants. I’ll thank you to remember—”

Eggsy was almost reeling under the combined onslaught of Harry’s supercharged proximity and the heavy hand at the base of his throat. He was barely hearing the words themselves, just the sound of Harry’s voice, rich and close. It felt like he was being flooded with hot, sticky adrenaline, swelling his cock and hammering through his veins, leaving his mouth dry and his vision cloudy. He was so fucking turned on.

“—That even now you need us a damn sight more than we need you.”

He was _right there_ , in Eggsy’s space, so strong and so warm; Eggsy could barely breathe. He knew he should be trying to think of a reply, to defend himself, to explain and apologise and promise to get his act together—but the only thing going through his head was a litany of Harry’s name, over and over, in time with his drumming heart. The frustration from months of wanting and watching and _waiting_ was welling up inside him, and he couldn’t help himself: he turned his head and caught Harry’s open mouth against his. 

He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and an increased pressure against his throat, forcing him back against the wall. 

Harry’s eyes were half-closed, looking down at him, and there was a new anger in his face. “That’s your solution to every problem, apparently.”

Harry’s mouth was so close he could feel heat on his lips. Eggsy whined in his throat, unable to find words. 

“That’s a weakness. And so painfully predictable. To think I—” Harry cut himself off, exhaled. “I would have to expect that, if you were mine. That every other week you’d be… reverting to type.” 

“Fuck you,” Eggsy croaked. His pulse was coursing loud in his ears - or maybe Harry was cutting off his oxygen. That word: mine. Where the fuck had that come from? “It’s not like that.”

“It feels like that,” Harry said, and with a sudden movement he was closing his other hand on Eggsy’s cock through his trousers, and Eggsy inhaled a sharp, ragged breath. Harry’s voice grew softer, more deadly. “How many people have you fucked just to get out of a difficult situation?”

No way to answer that. 

“Or would you have fucked them anyway?“ Harry pressed, each word cool and smooth as a polished stone. 

“That’s not—“

“And what if I turned you around right here, right now?” 

No way to answer that either. “Harry.” 

“I’m not going to pretend I don’t want to fuck some sense into you. _I_ don’t pretend.” The hand holding his cock tightened, wonderful and cruel at once, making Eggsy’s knees want to buckle.

“God, Harry,” Eggsy gasped, and this was nothing like how he’d pictured getting together with Harry but fucking hell he would take _anything_ right now. He tried again to kiss him—again, Harry didn’t let him. 

“But _I_ am in charge of my own actions.” 

“God, just—please,” Eggsy said, sweat prickling up and down his back, under his hair.

“Please what? Please stop? Please let go? You need to be clear and coherent under pressure, and this,” he squeezed again, harder, “let me promise you, is nothing.”

“ _God_.”

“You need to demonstrate a modicum of self control.” This said whilst massaging the head of his cock through the fabric, making him whimper and pant. 

Eggsy ground his head back against the wall. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just, please, just wank me off, Harry, I’ll never fuck a mark again, I’ll do whatever you want, just, _please_ —“

“That is neither clear nor coherent, nor convincing.”

Eggsy dragged in a deep shuddery breath. “ _Please_ , Harry, let me prove it to you,” he said, as clear and co-fucking-herent as he could, staring up into Harry’s scathing dark eyes. 

“How?”

 _How_? He had no fucking clue! “I dunno, I—I don’t know,” he said loudly, as Harry’s thumb teased over the ridge beneath the head of his cock, sending a lance of heat right through his gut. 

Harry watched him for a long moment. “Very well,” he said eventually, and it was like the anger had been subsumed into something else, something calmer and more composed but no less intense. “You want to prove you can control yourself? I will make you an offer. For the next ten minutes, I give you free rein.” Another nudge of his thumb that had Eggsy gasping. “Carte blanche. An exercise in discipline. You can do whatever you want - and you are welcome to leave - but if you climax I will bench you until further notice, revoke your access to weaponry and enrol you on a three month algorithmic Python course.”

Eggsy gaped at him. “You’re asking me not to come whilst your hand is _literally on my cock_.” 

He regretted it instantly: Harry let go of him and held out both hands, as if to say, _Yes?_

Eggsy hadn’t got this far without knowing how to spot the smart option. The smart option here was to walk away, amend his ways, sit on his hands - not like that - talk himself down. Turn off the gas, come off the boil, back the fuck off. But look at him. Since the first sight of Harry, he’d never been able to stop staring. Wanting to prove himself, wanting recognition; wanting Harry to stare back. And now there was a challenge in Harry’s eyes, not just the one he thought he was throwing down. There was heat and doubt. He didn’t think Eggsy could do it - not without walking away. 

_Bring it on._

Eggsy hadn’t got this far by always choosing the smart option. 

He cocked his head, let his hunger show in his face. “Can I touch you?” 

Harry’s chin lifted a fraction. “Anything.”

Well that was that, then; no matter how fucked up this might be, in what universe would Eggsy ever turn him down? 

He took a step forwards, right into Harry’s space, as close as Harry had been to him. Harry wanted to see control? Eggsy would show him. _Gladly_.

Harry held still, drawn up to his full height. His face was watchful, his eyes wary, reserving judgement. Eggsy wanted to bite him. 

He leaned in instead and kissed the edge of Harry’s jaw, where the muscle was bunched tight. The warmth of Harry’s skin was delicious against his lips; he kissed it again, followed with the faintest brush of teeth, and felt the muscle twitch. He nibbled his way over to Harry’s ear, on one slow exhale, then buried his nose in the hair behind Harry’s ear and breathed him in for a long, sweet, druggy second. Then he said, “What if you come?”

“I won’t.” 

Eggsy kissed a couple of places on his ear, as if contemplating that answer. He took the lobe between his teeth and gently tugged, and heard Harry inhale through his mouth. Not a gasp but - promising. Really fucking promising. “But like, what if you do?”

“I won’t.”

 _Challenge accepted_. That sort of challenge, Eggsy was _well_ up for. Eggsy glanced at the clock on the wall. “Okay, it’s ten-past, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“So twenty-past.” He was reassuring his own needy, throbbing body as much as anything. He’d survived the rest of this damn evening - the rest of this damn _year_ \- and he figured if his poor blue balls were gonna explode, they would have done it already. 

Harry’s voice was dry as ever. “You can count.” 

“I can do a lot of things,” Eggsy retorted, soft as silk, and started kissing a path down Harry’s neck. At the same time, he raised his hand to Harry’s face, trailed the pads of his fingers along the opposite line of his jaw. He wanted the bastard covered in goosebumps. He felt Harry swallow under his mouth, and smiled against his skin. He _liked_ having the reins. 

His fingertips found the soft warmth of Harry’s lips, traced over them as he trailed his mouth back up the slant of Harry’s neck. He must sharpen his razor every time - there was only the barest rasp of stubble beneath his lips. Maybe he shaved twice a day. He wouldn’t put it past him. 

His next breath was shakier; the reality of _something_ happening between them - even dressed up as this messed-up battle of wills - was beginning to make his head swim, while the thought that this might be his one and only chance warred with a pitiful, persistent idea that if he was good enough, _it might not be_. 

He exhaled and Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, turning his head a fraction, tilting it slightly away from Eggsy’s attentions. Eggsy’s smile widened, and he opened his mouth, letting his tongue lap the skin just there—Harry’s lips parted under his fingertips. That, after earlier, was very, very nice.

Eggsy drew the tip of his forefinger along the line of Harry’s lower lip, pressing just enough to feel the wetness inside, and then he cupped Harry’s jaw with his hand and slipped the pad of his thumb into his mouth. Harry’s teeth closed on it, warning, but not before Eggsy felt the fleeting brush of his tongue, like a reflex to the intrusion, soft-wet and warm. 

“I could spend the whole ten minutes right… here,” Eggsy said, against the hollow beneath Harry’s jaw, and he’d meant it to be a taunt but it came out almost wondering. He blamed the intoxicating tang of Harry’s skin, addling his senses.

Harry made a gruff noise in his throat. “I can’t see what that would prove,” he said, against Eggsy’s thumb, and it was almost as dry as before but not quite.

Eggsy opened his mouth and sucked, which elicited an infinitesimal indrawn breath. Not so stony cold now, hey, Mr Hart? 

“I’ll thank you not to leave a mark,” Harry rasped, twenty seconds later, and Eggsy had to restrain another urge to bite his neck. See, how about that, as much self control as the next man, even given who he was pressed up against. 

“Course not,” Eggsy muttered, and lifted his head again, using his hand to make Harry look him in the face. “No one else’s business, innit?”

“No,” Harry said, very still, and looked for a moment like he might say more.

Eggsy pressed his thumb against Harry’s lips, then slid that hand up into Harry’s hair and kissed his mouth instead. Which—fuck. He hadn’t planned that, fuck, it was practically the one time he’d planned _not_ to kiss him - but right in that moment he couldn’t resist. And kissing him was like the fucking sun coming out. Harry didn’t pull away this time - score! - and his mouth opened easily, letting Eggsy taste him, tease him. Eggsy took it slow, trying not to spook him, kissing him like he thought he wanted it, all refined and gentlemanly, like. 

Harry accepted it for about ten seconds and then dipped him and ravaged his mouth. And okay, maybe that was how the nobility kissed, all white-hot passion and confidence, or maybe that was just Harry, but fucking hell it felt good. Hard, deep kisses threaded through with breathy, incredulous moans—Eggsy wrested himself back upright, coming back to earth to find he had both hands in Harry’s hair and was grinding against Harry’s leg with his tie undone and shirt collar gaping open. What the actual fuck. How had he given up so much ground in the space of so little time? He checked the clock - two! Two minutes gone, that was all! - and tipped his head forwards to groan, long and frustrated, against the junction of Harry’s neck and shoulder. He smelled so damn fine. 

“Good God,” Harry started hoarsely, “you…” He broke off and started kissing Eggsy’s neck, one hand planted in the middle of his back, holding him close, the other continuing its frighteningly deft work on his shirt buttons. Eggsy threaded his arms around Harry’s neck and arched against him, shivering madly, rocking his cock against Harry’s thigh and starting to gasp as it all entwined: the feverish heat of Harry’s mouth, the cool air against his wet throat, all that intensely nice friction. He could get off on this, he thought hazily, well on the way to losing himself in sensation - and then he remembered that he was supposed to be proving himself, and that just, that - that was not fucking fair. 

Not cool. _Not cool, Harry, to say one thing and do another, to request one thing and then behave in a way what is blatantly going to cause the opposite thing to happen._ But then Harry wasn’t like that, he wasn’t the sabotaging type - honour and being better than your past self, that was Harry. This erotic jeopardising of Eggsy’s chances… didn’t fit.

But whether Harry was genuine or giving Machiavelli a run for his money, Eggsy knew the smart option was still gonna be the same: step away from the ledge, right away, don’t fucking toy with it, don’t dance around on it a few times for good measure. 

Then again, you don’t get good at freerunning without dancing on a few ledges. 

Eggsy cupped the nape of Harry’s neck in both hands, enjoying Harry’s mouth on his throat for just a few dangerous seconds more, and then closed his hands in Harry’s hair and pulled him back.

“Alright there,” he said, enjoying the sight of Harry’s slightly glazed expression as he blinked down at him. 

Harry ducked to kiss his mouth again, and this time it was Eggsy who evaded. “Whoa, whoa, I know what you’re doing. You’ve only got seven minutes left - you’re trying to get me off without even touching me. You wanna win.” 

One look told him that was not the main thing Harry wanted right now. 

“It’s a decent tactic,” Eggsy continued, and brushed a fingertip over Harry’s lips, just for the sheer thrill of it, for the fact that earlier Harry had been pure stoicism and now he tried to bite, “but it’s pointless, you get me?” He raised his eyebrows. “You saw me this morning. That guy sucking me off - it took a lot longer than seven minutes. He was a bit shit, though. Not like me.” He tilted his head and gave Harry a slow smile, letting his voice drop, taking his time. “I give really fucking good head, Harry. I’m gonna show you.”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, and Eggsy stroked down his body as he sank to his knees. 

“Eggsy, you really…” Harry started belatedly, his voice sounding like it was coming from far away, “don’t have to…” 

Eggsy didn’t dignify that with an answer. He rubbed his face against Harry’s thigh, hands smoothing over warm Harris tweed and mapping out the slant of his cock beneath the fabric, and enjoyed the low noise Harry made, almost an objection but not quite. Eggsy made short work of his fly, forgetting to go slow in his eagerness to unveil the main attraction; incontestable proof that Harry was not winding him up. 

He got it out and of course Harry had a _nice_ cock, big and thick and uncut, foreskin already pulled back taut around the pink, shiny head. The situation was straight from one of Eggsy’s favourite fantasies: Harry looking down at him, fully and immaculately dressed except for the smooth length of his dick sticking out his open fly. Abruptly dizzy, Eggsy wrapped both hands around the shaft and ducked his head to press his lips against it. 

“Mh,” Harry said, almost inaudible, music to Eggsy’s ears. Eggsy started licking, slow and generous, and Harry made another noise, more like a sigh. Eggsy closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of silky salty skin under his tongue, taking the head in his mouth and sucking, ignoring the pounding ache of his own cock still trapped in his boxers.

He felt something brush against his cheek and opened his eyes again, realising it was Harry’s palm. He leaned into the touch, skin flaring warm at how he must look: jacket still on, crisp white shirt half unbuttoned, tie hanging open, on his knees with just the head of Harry’s cock in his mouth. Like a fucking toff wet dream, basically. He looked up and reckoned Harry was in agreement on that one—Harry looked like he was spiking a fever, eyes blazing and lips ajar, hair a tousled shadow of its former neat self. But holding still. 

Eggsy pulled off for a moment. “Ever the gentleman, eh, Harry?” he murmured, against the underside of Harry’s cock, and licked a slow wet stripe up it, keeping eye contact the whole time. Harry’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and his hand twitched against Eggsy’s cheek. Eggsy grinned. “You don’t have to be,” he said, and took him back inside. 

Further, this time - seeing how much he could take and teasing over the entrance to his throat, then trying not to recoil, blinking hard, when Harry’s hips twitched, sliding him right to the back of Eggsy’s mouth.

“F-fuck,” Harry said distinctly. 

The catch in his voice was possibly the most erotic thing Eggsy had ever heard. He was wrestling one-handed with his own flies before he’d even noticed moving, shoving his trousers and boxers down to his knees and grabbing the base of his own cock, hard. He needed this, just for a moment. Just a couple of jerks, just enough to take the edge off, while he forged forwards on Harry’s cock, because he needed to make him speak again, needed more of those rasping words, needed them more than oxygen right now.

“Ah, fuck, Eggsy.”

Oh dear God did Eggsy like hearing that. A couple of jerks became a slick blur, pleasure streaming through him as he bobbed his head on Harry’s cock, trying to suck and swallow and face-fuck himself all at the same time, feeling Harry’s dick get unbelievably hard - “ _Fuck_ , Eggsy” - and then he realised all at once that he was going to come, soon, really fucking soon if he didn’t calm the fuck down, and with a moment of supreme determination Eggsy dragged his hand off his own dick and clawed instead at Harry’s fabric-covered thigh. 

“ _Eggsy_ ,” Harry groaned, fingers sliding into Eggsy’s hair and pulling him harder onto his cock, starting to meet Eggsy’s movements with short sharp thrusts of his own. 

Eggsy grunted around the thick length in his mouth, pulsing all over with the effort of averted orgasm. Jesus, that had been close. His heart was racing, and he could feel wet heat pulsing at the tip of his cock, clamouring to be touched. Maybe it had already been ten minutes? 

“Fuck,” Harry said again, and Eggsy’s hand was back on himself before he could stop it, fingertips circling in the slickness at the head of his cock. Maybe it was fine that it _hadn’t_ been ten minutes - maybe Harry had waived the challenge, but hadn’t told him due to presuming it would be monumentally apparent in his willing and eager participation in cramming his dick into Eggsy’s mouth. 

Even as the thought occurred, Eggsy knew it didn’t matter. Harry might be out of his mind right now, but later he’d remember, and quite apart from not wanting to be benched for three months, Eggsy also didn’t want to see that look in Harry’s eyes ever again. 

That was enough to make him let go of his own cock—and then another thought occurred to him in quick succession, and he reached behind himself, pressed his fingers between his cheeks instead, smoothing that slickness directly against his arsehole and trying not to make a sound as electric sparks raced through him. Oh, yeah. That was fucking blinding. That was a genius way to spend the next four or five minutes. Or forty or fifty.

He wrapped both hands around Harry’s cock again and changed his tactics, letting the spit and pre-come slide down over his fingers instead of trying to swallow it all down. Harry’s breathing was coming shallow now, his thrusts going right to the back of Eggsy’s mouth, and it was short work to get his fingers really, really wet.

There was something good and dirty about covertly sliding a finger into his own arse while on his knees sucking Harry off; something that hit the darker pleasure centres of his brain _just right_. He teased himself a little, stroking wet circles and just dipping in on every third or forth thrust, but that quickly made him so intensely turned on he had to follow through with a fingertip, then a finger, then two. 

He started to find it harder to breathe, gasping between Harry’s thrusts and giving little cut-off groans on the in-stroke. _Fuck me_ , he thought, dizzy with lust and breathlessness and the lewd stretch of his arsehole around his own fingers. The sight he must make was burning behind his eyelids: trousers round his knees, his bare arse speared on his rocking hand, Harry’s fist in his hair, the clock on the wall saying seven minutes, eight, nine…

He felt the moment Harry noticed what he was doing - a stutter in the roll of his hips, a low disbelieving groan. 

“You filthy little—” Harry muttered, and heat rushed to Eggsy’s face. He returned both hands to Harry’s dick, absurdly diffident even as he tried to shrug it off - _So I like a finger up my arse whilst shagging, who the fuck cares? You like watching jumped-up salesmen suck me off_ \- and redoubled his efforts on Harry’s cock instead, letting it nudge and nudge at the back of his throat, so close to pushing down. 

“You—Oh Jesus,” Harry whispered, a different tone now, dreamier but somehow more urgent. It sounded, to Eggsy’s untrained but enthusiastic ear, like a man of a certain breeding storming towards a massive fucking orgasm. 

_I won’t_ , he remembered Harry saying, all glossy cool certainty, and it spurred Eggsy on, gave him the extra edge it took to swallow him down, to let Harry’s cock slide right on into his throat. 

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ,” Harry breathed, both hands in Eggsy’s hair now, and Eggsy rode out the stinging sensation behind his eyes and the burning in his throat because Harry _was_ going to come, actually, now or very soon, he was sure of it; it was building, his hips jolting against Eggsy’s face as he fucked his throat, dick sliding deep inside him, no way he wasn’t going to go over—

A blaze of pain erupted over his scalp, and Harry dragged him backwards off his cock by his hair. 

Eggsy’s vision briefly whited out. “”What the fuck,” he croaked, swaying on his knees and trying not to cough. 

“That’s—ten minutes,” Harry said, breathing hard, keeping a tight grip on Eggsy’s hair. 

Eggsy stared up at him, the slick jut of his cock so close to his face, just out of reach. A thousand things to say flashed through his brain: _fuck me_ ; _good to know one of us was counting_ ; _you really can multitask_ ; _great, well, good night then old chap_ ; _just fuck me already_. 

Eggsy tipped his face back instead, gazing the formidable distance into Harry’s eyes. “You can come on my face or up my arse,” he said, aiming for matter-of-fact even though his voice was wrecked, “but you’re not leaving here tonight without finishing this, you get me?”

Harry’s glossy certainty was back. “No,” he agreed, “I’m not.” 

He released his hold on Eggsy’s hair, but Eggsy didn’t have time to appreciate his freedom before he was being manhandled to his feet and then walked backwards - shuffling, stumbling, hampered by the trousers around his knees - until his arse hit the cold wall. Harry’s hands swept over him, one threading into his hair as Harry bent to investigate Eggsy’s wet, salt-streaked mouth with his tongue, the other sliding over Eggsy’s hip and across the swell of his arse, warm fingers smoothing unerringly between his cheeks to press at his wet, aching hole. 

Eggsy opened his mouth and sucked on Harry’s tongue, trying to convey with wordless eagerness how very alright he was about all this - not that Harry seemed to be expecting any objections at this stage. Harry’s cock was brushing against the sensitive skin of Eggsy’s stomach, under his shirt, the slick firm heat of it like a brand; Eggsy’s cock was crammed against Harry’s leg again, rutting up against the perfect tailoring stretched across his thigh. 

Harry’s fingertips were slippery, crooking into him from behind, but not _wet_. Something else—Vaseline? Harry had _Vaseline_? That was either preternatural foresight, an unbelievable sense of entitlement, or… chapped lips. Fucking ex-boyscouts.

“I’ll be honest,” Harry said, as Eggsy keened against his mouth, floored by a lightning bolt of friction as Harry’s thickly slicked fingers forced inside, “if I hadn’t seen what you were doing, I wouldn’t have pulled you off. I would have let you keep going because you’re right, you are excellent at that.”

“Thanks,” Eggsy tried to say, but it was barely recognisable as a word. “Ah, fuck—” He’d loosened himself up but Harry’s fingers were wider than his, and the sensation of Harry’s big hand cupping his arse as he pushed two fingers inside was almost overwhelmingly hot. 

“But you can’t finger yourself in front of me and not expect to it to get my attention,” Harry said, and kissed him again, smothering Eggsy’s groan as he pushed a third finger inside. 

Eggsy panted against Harry’s mouth, white-hot sensation running out in waves from the tight stretch of his arse and the steady pressure against his cock. 

“Please,” he said breathlessly, licking at Harry’s tongue and kissing feverishly and grinding against his thigh. 

Harry pushed his fingers deeper, pulling Eggsy up onto his toes. “Please?”

Eggsy groaned under his breath, then remembered the dismissive calm of Harry’s voice, earlier: _You need to be clear and coherent under pressure - this is nothing._ Well this wasn’t nothing, but Eggsy hadn’t got this far by needing to be told _anything_ by Harry twice. 

He lifted both hands to cup Harry’s face, thumbs against his cheekbones, and pushed him back just enough that he could look him straight in the eye. 

“Please,” he said, as clear as a fucking bell, a bell made of glass no less, “Harry - I would very much like you to fuck me already, or I am going to get spunk all over your beautiful suit.”

Harry’s eyes went momentarily warm, creasing at the edges, and then he moved all at once—withdrawing his fingers and turning him, hands rough, crowding him forwards against the wall, pressing up behind and putting his mouth against Eggsy’s ear. “Is that so? Luckily I would very much like to oblige.” 

Eggsy braced both hands and his forehead against the wall, shivers coursing under his clothes, feeling the coolness of the air against his bare arse turn to the stifling warmth of Harry’s hips, clothes, cock. Harry wasn’t messing about: spreading Eggsy’s arse with both hands and lining up his dick, slicking the fat head with one brisk hand. The heat of naked skin against his arsehole was shockingly intimate, and Eggsy whined again, the noise huskier now his throat had been fucked raw. 

Anyone else, he’d be pushing them off at this point, insisting on condoms and more lube and occasionally even dinner first. But this was _Harry_ , and right now all Eggsy could think was that if the world ended tomorrow, having had Harry’s cock inside him today would be one of the high points of his entire damn life.

He felt Harry jostle against him, the heat of his breath on the back of Eggsy’s neck, and then Harry’s wet fist was guiding the tip of his cock between Eggsy’s cheeks. 

“You’re completely sure you want me to… _do it_?” Harry said, and something was off in his voice - the words themselves were almost absurdly cautious given the situation, but Harry’s tone sounded like something out of porn. 

“Yeah,” Eggsy said, and then, experimentally, “do it,” and felt Harry’s cock flex against his arsehole.

“Do _you_?” Again, more sly and breathless than it warranted. Harry was seriously getting off on something here - aside from the obvious.

“Do me,” Eggsy said readily, starting to grin in the privacy of facing the wall. So he liked it noisy, huh? He let his voice slur. “God yeah, Harry, do it, _do me_ ,” and that was enough, clearly, because Harry made a low noise in his throat and started to push—gently at first and then with more strength, the pressure against his hole starting to build. 

“God,” Eggsy said, the grin wiped right off his face, “God, God, fuck,” overtaken by the sweet-sharp sensation of beginning to stretch. 

Harry made a soft noise in return, his other hand closing on Eggsy’s hipbone, tilting his hips and then bracing him at a new angle, pushing him up on his toes. That apparently gave him the leverage he needed, and the next nudge forced the head of his dick into Eggsy’s arse, and Eggsy groaned, long and low, pain and heat radiating out from the tight, stretched place. 

“Easy,” Harry said, spitting in his hand again, and Eggsy felt the swipe of his slick fingers around his hole and yeah—that was better. 

“More,” he managed, and then almost blacked out as Harry’s rough voice came, against his ear: “Do it yourself.”

Eggsy moved his shaking fingers to his face, licked them, shivering anew at tasting the stale salt of his own overheated skin undercut with the tang of Harry’s cock. Harry’s cock which was _going in his arse_ , he thought, faint with lust, getting his hand slickly dripping and then reaching down and back, blindly grasping the thick length of shaft not yet inside him. He squeezed it on reflex, then gasped as that made it twitch, hot and so very fucking hard. He slid his hand up, spreading as much wetness as possible over velvety hot skin, slicking right up to the place they were joined—and then going still, panting hot and shocked at the obscene sensation of sliding his fingers over the tight place where Harry’s bare cock disappeared inside him. 

“God,” he said again, closing his hand and rocking against it, shifting to feel that intimate stretch again, again, again. His own cock was flushed and straining, stuck out in front of him, clear slickness beading at the tip. 

“Mm,” Harry agreed, holding still and letting Eggsy work his way back onto him; feeding it into himself with one trembling hand, increment by sliding increment as his knees turned to water and his brain turned to steam. 

“Oh, God, _fuck_ ,” Eggsy said loudly, when it was buried half inside and seemed to be getting thicker—and how fucking big and hard had Harry _got_ , anyway, that Eggsy felt this full and there was so much more to come? He was trying but—God. He shoved back impatiently and gasped at the searing jolt that went through him, pleasure blended with pain, feeling like he was splitting himself open. What the fuck did Harry think he was trying to prove, going with saliva and Vaseline when Eggsy felt like approximately a litre of Liquid Silk would be more appropriate? He had to pause when his fist reached the base of Harry’s cock, delineating the last three inches, and shook his head, panting like he’d been wounded. 

“Too much?” Harry said, his voice tight; he was holding his breath, Eggsy realised, and the thought made something inside him melt. Then Harry started kissing the back of his neck, and everything else started melting too, the shivers picking up again like a soaring melody in contrast to the throbbing bass pulsing out from his overstretched hole. 

Eggsy sighed and tipped his head back against Harry’s shoulder, thankful that years of gymnastics had left him with a spine that did not quit, and Harry hummed against his neck, sucking a path of slow kisses up to Eggsy’s ear.

“Why don’t you get me a little more wet, then,” Harry said, almost casual, lifting his other hand to Eggsy’s mouth, and Eggsy sucked on his fingertips one by one and then shuddered, deep and hot, when Harry pushed three fingers into his mouth and curled them against his tongue. The sensation of having his jaw stretched, his arse full, Harry’s mouth on the side of his neck—the shivers coalesced together, rushing up and down him, turning strung-out tension to molten softness. 

“There you go,” Harry murmured, and Eggsy felt him start to slide deeper. Harry dropped his wet hand to his cock and guided in the last couple of inches with a smooth steady push, sinking him balls-deep and lifting Eggsy right up onto his toes. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Eggsy said, bending forwards, the world narrowing down to the massive fucking dick inside him, the warm dovetailing of Harry’s hips against his arse, and the huff of Harry’s breath coming fast over his sweaty skin. 

“All right?” Harry said, already shifting restlessly, a dirty sway of his hips rubbing him back and forth inside. 

Eggsy managed a nod, and then Harry reached around and grasped his cock, and oh, he was ten times more than all right. He was in fucking heaven—and then Harry started to move in earnest, swaying nudges evolving in short, sleek thrusts, and it felt like all the nerves in Eggsy’s body were shorting out one by one. 

“God, fuck, fuck,” he started, almost unaware he was speaking, his hips moving of their own volition, rocking him back onto Harry’s cock and then forwards against his hand. 

“Yes,” Harry said, under his breath, sounding more like a curse than a reply, and the next few thrusts were longer, harder, shoving him up against the wall. Eggsy yelped and braced with both hands, and Harry let go of his cock again to grab his hips and slam into him; his voice came louder, rougher, “ _Oh_ , yes, Eggsy. You feel good.”

Eggsy didn’t even have the breath to protest the loss of Harry’s hand on his cock. He could hear his own voice coming in desperate little flurries - “Harry—fuck—God—fuck— _Harry_ ” - that Harry seemed to enjoy very much, judging by the extra snap of his hips each time. 

“So good,” Harry sighed again, and Eggsy couldn’t tell if it was commentary or praise, only that the sound of it made him flush warm from head to toe. 

“Yeah,” he said, and then cringed as Harry slammed deep and stayed there, grinding his hips, because that felt so. Damned. Tight. 

“Worth the wait?” Harry said, hands squeezing hard on Eggsy’s waist as he rocked deep inside, and it was all Eggsy could do to nod and groan.

“Fuck yes.”

“I wanted to do this the first day I saw you,” Harry said, words coming husky and breathless, and then he was pulling almost out before sliding back in, and God, what that must look like, _fuck_. 

“Me too,” Eggsy gasped, picturing himself, what Harry could see, Eggsy’s arse taking his cock, red and wet; burying himself to the hilt again and again. 

“Yes,” Harry said, the rough tenor back in his voice, and then he was crowding in even closer, mouth sharp on the back of Eggsy’s neck. “I thought as much,” he said, a certain catlike smugness to his voice, and Eggsy tipped his head back and tried not to growl as the next few thrusts came thick and fast. “Couldn’t—do anything about it, before. Too—inappropriate.”

“Fucking love inappropriate.”

“I know,” Harry said, giving it to him harder, and Eggsy bent into it, seeing stars, cocking his arse back and clawing the wall as Harry fucked him properly—deeper now, all the way each time, balls slapping against his arse, soft grunts of exertion filling his ears. 

“I’m—fuck, I’m—” Eggsy panted, starting to crest the wave, and Harry made a pleased noise in his ear.

“You’ve earned it,” he said, finally taking Eggsy’s dick in his hand again, wanking him off in counter-rhythm to ploughing his arse, and that was _it_ , it took less than a minute, and Eggsy would be embarrassed to shoot his load so soon except fuck it, he had been waiting for fucking ever, and besides he could feel Harry speeding up behind him, fucking him harder as Eggsy clenched down in long, hot spasms.

“Harry, _fuck_ ,” Eggsy managed, going over the top, as his come streaked down Harry’s fingers and splattered against the wall.

“You—“ Harry started, then cut off as Eggsy felt him swell impossibly harder and made himself squeeze down, eking out every last filthy second of friction. “Fuck, _yes_ ,” Harry said, and slicked his dripping hand over his cock, and then he was inside him again, hands closing back on Eggsy’s waist, the juddering roll of his hips becoming a deep, slippery, shuddering grind. 

“Fuck Harry, yeah,” Eggsy breathed, barely supporting his own weight on both hands. “Fucking do it, come on, do me, I wanna feel it, I—“ and then Harry was clamping one hand over Eggsy’s mouth and coming like an earthquake behind him, so deep in Eggsy’s arse, so hot, so good. Eggsy tried to mentally record the sensation for posterity, the deep furious thrusts coming to an abrupt halt and then a few sweet jolts of aftershock, so fucking slippery now. He was tingling all over, gasping for air. 

Harry stayed inside him, and they just stood there for a pounding minute, sweat sliding down skin, chests heaving, Harry’s arms coming up around Eggsy’s chest, Harry panting against the back of Eggsy’s neck. 

Eggsy drifted in the post-coital fog of it all - thoughts loose and golden, all his sharp edges buffed away - until he heard Harry take a deep slow breath. 

Okay: waking up time.

“So, uh,” Eggsy said, shifting his hips to feel Harry’s cock twitch inside him. “Was that fucking some sense into me, then?”

A huff of laughter against the back of his neck. “Little git.”

“I’m just saying,” Eggsy said, trying not to let his grin show in his voice, “seemed to me I weren’t the one lacking in self control… _Ah_ ,” he hissed, as Harry tugged out of him a little too quickly, and suddenly there was slickness on his thighs and his arse felt achingly soft and empty. He turned round, leaned back against the cooling stability of the wall. “Jesus.”

He made a quick study of Harry’s body; there was something closed off about it, despite all the evidence pointing to what they’d just done. 

Eggsy’s skin prickled uneasily. There was always a point after an unexpected shag where the participants withdrew back into their own heads, took stock of the situation.

“No, your self control was ultimately adequate,” Harry was saying, pulling out his pocket square and wiping the come off his cock, then tucking himself back in his trousers. The pocket square went in the bin. Eggsy wondered if he had an unlimited supply of them. Harry fixed his cuffs and then combed his fingers through his hair, restoring order. 

Eggsy watched, dazed, feeling more broken and debauched with every passing second as Harry rebuilt his armour, becoming immaculate again. 

Belatedly, Eggsy pulled up his own boxers, fastened his trousers, and tucked in his shirt. In short, tried to look a bit more worldly, a bit less like his arse was wet and throbbing. 

“I need a shower,” he said. C’mon, Harry, don’t go all weird and repressed on him now. 

Harry’s gaze came back to him, which made Eggsy realised Harry had been looking away. “Yes,” Harry said. 

The distance between them felt abruptly agonising. Eggsy exhaled hard; enough bullshit. 

“So,” he said deliberately, pushing off the wall and starting towards him, ignoring the weak protest his body sent him at the idea of doing anything not involving curling up on a mattress right now. “That was fun.” 

Harry’s eyebrows lifted, but he stayed put. “Fun.”

“Really fun,” Eggsy assured him, giving Harry his best knowing smile, the one that always worked.

It did not - appear - to work. 

Eggsy stumbled on, feeling like his throat was closing. “So, uh, can we do it again some time?”

A pause made him sick to his stomach. 

“That rather depends,” Harry said at last, as the world rushed hot in Eggsy’s ears, “on how much _fun_ you plan to be having with anyone else.”

Eggsy stared at him. That was—not what he’d expected. “What?”

“You heard.”

“Yeah but—you serious?” 

“Yes.” Harry watched him for a moment, then pressed his lips together. “Call me old fashioned,” he said, banked heat in his tone, “but I do not share.” He didn’t seem to see what he was looking for in Eggsy’s face, because his voice became patient, practical. “We can call this evening a one off, if you’d prefer.”

“Or…?” Eggsy said, needing to hear it to believe it. 

“Or you can come to my bed as often as you like - on the proviso that you do not also frequent anyone else’s.”

Eggsy couldn’t help the grin starting to spread across his face. He’d had no fucking idea this was up for grabs, none at all. “Why Harry,” he crowed, “you asking me to go steady? _Ah_ ,” he added, as Harry grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him in close. 

“I’m not asking anything,” Harry said, the banked anger in his voice beginning to smoulder. “I’m telling you your options. You’ve demonstrated to me that you _can_ resist, so - please do so. And in return, I will fuck you any way you like, as often as you like. I will make sure you want for nothing, sexual or otherwise. But I will not condone the pattern of behaviour you’ve fallen into, and if this evening was merely an extension of that, I demand to know it. Now.”

It was like being split open again - his mind, this time. 

“Harry,” Eggsy said hoarsely, staring up at him, almost too close to focus on those dark eyes, opaque with wary resignation, “of course it’s fucking not, are you insane?” 

A flicker at the corner of Harry’s mouth. “It’s not impossible.”

“Well… I’m in, anyway,” Eggsy said, and the embarrassment of saying something so deeply and pathetically earnest was immediately dwarfed by how fucking incredible it was to see the brightening in Harry’s face. 

Harry’s hand softened on his shirt, and that was all the warning Eggsy got before Harry leaned in and kissed his mouth, soft, fleeting. 

“You’re sure,” Harry muttered, against his lips.

“Yeah,” Eggsy said, nodding and grinning, kissing back, chasing the light pressure of his lips. “ _Yeah_.”

Harry drew back a little, smoothed down the front of Eggsy’s shirt, looked him in the eye again. His voice had a slightly strained lightness to it: “And how do you feel about… breakfast?”

“Good,” Eggsy said quickly, hearing everything unsaid in that word, and he was damned if he was going to give Harry a single fucking fraction of a chance to slip away again. “I would fucking love breakfast with you, Harry, I always would’ve. From day one. So yeah, let’s - have breakfast.”

“Good,” Harry said, one hand sliding round the back of Eggsy’s neck and up into his hair, making shivers scurry down his back. “I’ll have to show you some of my favourite places,” he murmured, and kissed Eggsy again, deeper, longer. 

_Thank fuck for that_. Eggsy leaned into it, his arms going up around Harry’s neck, hanging on as his knees threatened to give way. It was a bit too soon to get it up again, but that didn’t stop it feeling pretty bloody wonderful to plaster himself against the length of Harry’s body, hitch up one leg, tuck his heel behind Harry’s calf.

Harry’s earlier words were ringing in his head, a bewitching combination of filthy and righteous. _Harry all over_. 

“You know you are literally the only person in the world who could get away with a speech like that,” Eggsy told him, through kisses, as Harry explored his mouth with a pleased purr. 

“Yes, well,” Harry said, under his breath, “you’re the only person who could inspire it,” and it was pitched all exasperated so the full meaning didn’t hit Eggsy until a few shining seconds later, at which point it seemed weird to reply. 

He contented himself with a satisfied noise, deep in his throat, trailing off when Harry pulled back and fixed him with a direct stare. Maybe it wasn’t too soon… 

“So are you gonna take me to bed, now, or what?” he asked, and Harry’s eyes flashed. 

“Yes,” he said, as if all doubt had at last been duly eviscerated. “I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> [The inspiration](http://tmblr.co/Zvs3au1oe1QJf).


End file.
